


please don't say [those words]

by trippingtozier



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, F/M, maybe i do need therapy, u deserve better bae, ugh sorry spencer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:21:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27553759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trippingtozier/pseuds/trippingtozier
Summary: Soulmate AU - your soulmates last words are printed somewhere on your bodyYou try not to tell anyone about the words on your arm.You start wearing long sleeves, trying to tell yourself that if the words are out of sight, they’re out of mind.You distance yourself from Spencer, believing that this is for the best. You’re only trying to prevent either of you from getting hurt.Deep down, you know it’s inevitable, but you try to convince yourself otherwise.
Relationships: Spencer Reid/Reader, Spencer Reid/You
Comments: 6
Kudos: 90





	please don't say [those words]

**Author's Note:**

> if there r any spelling errors, just smile and nod y'all ...

It’s the moment everyone waits for - the moment everyone dreads.

It happens when you least expect it, but that’s the case for most people.

The words make themselves at home on your skin - stamped from your shoulder to the crook of your elbow, so tiny, you almost miss them at first. 

You only find them after stripping away your shirt and squinting down at them with your dollar-store reading glasses. Still, they’re difficult to make out, and for a minute you almost convince yourself they’re just smudges of dirt. 

But you see, standing directly under the fluorescent lights of your bathroom, that they aren’t dirt. They’re not something that can easily be scrubbed away and washed down a drain. 

You run your fingers over the skin that they take up, not knowing exactly what they mean, but knowing what will happen when you hear them spoken. 

_ You should’ve told me you were cold. There are almost eight hundred cold-exposure related deaths that could have been prevented each year. _

As soon as you read the second sentence, your blood runs cold. 

_ Here, take my scarf. I’ll meet you at Rossi’s after I run to my place, alright? _

You know who it is.

Who else would know the fact about cold-exposure off the top of their head like that?

>i<

You try not to tell anyone about the words on your arm.

You start wearing long sleeves, trying to tell yourself that if the words are out of sight, they’re out of mind.

You distance yourself from Spencer, believing that this is for the best. You’re only trying to prevent either of you from getting hurt.

Deep down, you know it’s inevitable, but you try to convince yourself otherwise. You ignore the obvious. 

You ignore the voices in your head.

You ignore the words.

You ignore Spencer.

You ignore that you’re going to  _ lose  _ Spencer - the beautiful boy genius that stole your heart with his knowledge and kindness.

You push it all down, down down.

You pretend it’s not going to happen.

>ii<

It happens.

Of course it happens, there was no avoiding it. It’s fate.

Spencer kisses you, pressing you against the cabinets in his kitchen.

Pulling your long-sleeved turtleneck over your head, he trails kisses down your neck, your breasts. 

You stop him, gently tugging his hair to get him to look at you.

“I have to show you something,” you say, voice so soft you’re surprised he hears you. 

He watches as you uncurl your arm, presenting the words to him. You feel so exposed, so terrified.

Spencer doesn’t say anything - he just unbuttons his shirt, revealing the words that dance across his ribcage.

_ Worry wart. Don’t be too long, Rossi hates when people are late to dinner. _

_ I love you. _

You run a finger over his ribs, tracing the words. 

“How long?” You ask.

“Two years. The day you got food poisoning from the gas station burrito I told you not to eat.”

You laugh at that. “I’ve never wanted to punch someone more than when you walked into the women’s bathroom just to say ‘told you so’.”

“I guess I was lucky you were too nauseous to stand up.”

“No,” you shake your head. “You were just lucky I didn’t want to damage that pretty face of yours.”

Spencer quirks his eyebrows up at you. “You think I’m pretty?”

You cup his face, looking him in the eye. “Spencer Reid, I think you’re beautiful.”

>iii<

After the first night, there’s no separating the two of you.

You spend every night after that together - alternating between apartments. 

Some nights you stay up for hours talking. You have Spencer read you a book from memory, or swap childhood memories. You tell him about your favorite lyrics, and in turn he recites poems that remind him of you.

Some nights you bask in silence, completely entwined in each other. You run your hands through his hair and press your nose to his as a record player crackles in the background. You make him dance with you in the glow of the moonlight. He takes you to an observatory and watches as you look at the night sky in awe. 

Some nights you get lost in each other. You become his - completely and utterly his as he touches your bare skin carefully. Your touch on him, firm, protective, searching him out. His body, his kisses, his touches… they linger long after the moment has passed. 

You didn’t fall in love immediately - no, it happened more like that quote from that one book, the one Garcia was obsessed with back in 2012. How did it go?

‘ I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, then all at once. ’

Falling for Spencer was exactly like that, and you wouldn’t change a thing about it.

>iv<

You know it’s coming.

You knew it the second Garcia texted the team groupchat asking if everyone was free for a family dinner.

You knew it the second Rossi offered to host.

You knew it the second Spencer texted that you’d both be there.

He seemed blissfully unaware - just excited to have a night off. 

You sit beside him on a park bench, listening to him read from his latest treasury of poems. The sun is shining, but there’s still a bit of a winter chill in the air. You lean into his warmth, resting your cheek on his shoulder.

You take in the way his lithe hands trail the pages, the way the sunlight glints off the face of his watch, the way he sighs contentedly when you press the occasional kiss to his jawline. 

As afternoon turns to evening, you gently coax him to close the book, standing up to stretch. He protests, whining softly when you grab his hand to pull him up. 

“Hey,” you say. “You’re the one who agreed we’d be at dinner, not me.”

Spencer pouts, and you laugh, reaching up to ruffle his hair.

“Your hands are like ice.” He takes both of your hands in his, kissing the tip of your nose and then making a face. “Your nose is freezing, too. Are you cold?”

You shrug. “Maybe a little.”

“ _You should’ve told me you were cold. There are almost eight hundred cold-exposure related deaths that could have been prevented each year. Here, take my scarf._ ” Spencer wraps his scarf around you - it’s his purple one, his favorite. “ _I’ll meet you at Rossi’s after I run to my place, alright?_ ”

The words hit you as he’s pulling the scarf up to cover your nose. You reach out blindly to grab a hold of Spencer, pulling him to you, throwing your arms around him to nuzzle your face into his chest. He wraps an arm around you, keeping you pressed to him. 

You stay like that for a minute, just waiting for your heartrate to become less erratic. You will yourself not to cry when you pull apart to look up at him.

“ _Worry wart,_ ” you mumble. “ _Don’t be too long, Rossi hates when people are late to dinner._ ”

It’s then that Spencer’s face goes white with recognition, eyes becoming wide. 

You tug the scarf down and press your lips to his before he can say anything. Neither of you want to move, afraid of what will happen when your words run out.

You’re about to lose him.

You’re about to lose your soulmate. 

You break the kiss first, leaning on your tiptoes to bump your foreheads together. 

“ _ I love you. _ ”

>v<

You sit at the dining table, surrounded by your team’s laughter and love.

They don’t know, not yet. 

You’re waiting.

For what, you aren’t sure.

A sign, maybe. 

Anything.

You just want to get this over with.

Hotch is interrupted by a phone call, and he excuses himself to take it.

You know.

You watch as he comes back to the dining room, a grim look adorning his features. Your stomach drops as he turns to look at you.

“He’s gone,” you hear yourself say.

Everyone grows quiet.

“Reid’s gone.”


End file.
